


to silence

by tealmoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Breathplay, Other, Unsafe Kink Practices, dubious skeleton anatomy, technically not smut, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7997122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/tealmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Good self-care and alone time was hard to manage when he was so busy looking after his depressed little brother and pursuing a career, but finally, he had a chance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	to silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Askellie (NadaNine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/gifts).



> This sure is a thing. 
> 
> (No one ever do this in real life, please. Not trying to insult everyone's intelligence, just saying.)

With a third skeleton in the house, one would think he’d have no time to himself, both a doppelganger and a brother to look after, but things felt less crowded than ever. Red was so good for Papyrus— his sad baby brother, who could spend days without going outside, now actually went out without being nagged! The little dates he had with Red (though neither of them called it that, which was so cute) got them both out of the house a lot. Red had picked up a bunch of the household chores too, wanting to earn his keep, so Papyrus often wandered off with him whenever he went for groceries or out to the dump. Sans had more free time than ever.

Sans hadn’t thought about this in months, to be honest. Before Red had come along and given Papyrus something to focus on, he had been in one of his harsher slumps: hadn’t wanted to eat, barely slept but stayed in bed anyway, left burns on his hands and arms and didn’t care when Sans tried to heal him and take away his lighter. It didn’t work, not when he had piles of spare lighters hidden away somewhere. It was impossible to think of selfish things like this when his brother had seemed so close to falling down.

But now Papyrus was happy and out of the house with Red, gone for at least a few hours. Rather than being out of practice, Sans’s body seemed to remember all the steps, moving on autopilot. Lock the door, close the blinds, take off his boots, go to the closet. Even though no one would think anything of it, he always hid the scarf under a pile of other clothing, as if someone would be able to tell its purpose from a glance. It was a powder blue scarf, decorated with black music notes, from Napstabot’s clothing line. Sans owned a Napstabot hoodie and a few t-shirts as well, but he never wore the scarf outside.

Carefully, he untied his bandanna and put it to the side. He couldn’t dirty the gift Papyrus had given him in their childhood, not like this. And it was too short to use, anyway.

Maybe he was stalling, a little bit. It had been months, and it was hard not to feel nervous, shifting around on the bed so he was sitting in the right spot. Deep breath, checking his phone again in case he had missed a last-minute text from his brother, saying that they were coming back right now. There weren’t any new messages or missed calls.

Deep breath. He picked up the scarf, running his hands over the fabric for a moment. It was important to have his gloves off too— things felt better that way. He looped it around his neck twice and sat for a second, feeling it around his vertebrae. It was a nicely made scarf, not itchy at all, no tags that poked and distracted him.

Feeling impatience creeping up, he took the ends of the scarf into his hands. He was so used to touching everything through his gloves that the bare bones of his hands were hypersensitive, already tingling before he’d started. Sans took one last gulp of air and, fists clenched around the scarf, pulled as hard as he could.

Even as a skeleton (and a very self-aware one, he thought!), skeletal anatomy didn’t make much sense to him. Papyrus had always shrugged it off himself. “It’s magic bro, don’t let it rattle your bones.” He didn’t have a throat, and restriction around his upper spine should have been a discomfort at most. But somehow, tightening the scarf made the inside of his skull light up in fireworks. Not monster fireworks, which were middling at best because they couldn’t fire anything big at the cavern ceiling that might make it collapse. These were human fireworks, with a dozen different colors, and the type that made shapes when they exploded.

He couldn’t help but squirm, feet kicking involuntarily and rumpling the bedspread. If he had any breath, he probably would have been giggling, but all he could manage was little gasps. He tried to pull harder, but it seemed as tight as it could go. The fireworks had started to seep out of his skull and into his vision, until he could barely see the room itself, everything bright and dizzy and beautiful—

Sans woke up sprawled on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. In the past, he sometimes positioned himself badly, hitting his skull on the headboard rather than the pillows, or falling off the bed entirely, but he had landed perfectly this time. The scarf was just a scarf, now— once he had passed out, his grip had vanished, and it couldn’t strangle him anymore. He pulled it off, spine still tingling, and let it drop to the floor.

After his vision cleared, he reached over to check his phone. He had only been out for a few minutes, and there was plenty of time to come back to himself. Sans could still feel the aftershocks, like the remains of the fireworks falling back to the ground. His spine hurt, and his jaw ached from clenching it, but those were insignificant in the aftermath, the rest of his bones feeling loose and light. There might be a bruise there later, but wearing his bandanna would cover it easily.

Usually Sans didn’t like touching his Soul (it was messy, it was uncomfortable, and having it out always felt like he was supposed to be in a Fight), but using the scarf often made it rebel and appear in his ribcage. He was too relaxed to mind and touching it afterward made the nice feelings last longer. Shoving his shirt to his sternum, he reached up through his ribs and rubbed his palm against the little inverted heart. It was damp, leaking a thin iridescent liquid, enough so that his hand glided against it without it dripping everywhere.

The dizziness moved out of his limbs until it was just a tingle at the ends of his fingers. Sans kept up the motions against his Soul, breathing deeply to bring himself back to normal and doing the counting exercises that he had taught Papyrus for whenever he got too anxious. Five seconds to inhale, seven to exhale.

He had accidentally chipped off a fraction of his HP, enough that he couldn’t explain it away as tripping or banging into something. He’d have to get something to eat before the others got home!

**Author's Note:**

> Ellie, I really like your depiction of Swap Sans in particular, so I wrote you a quick thing! Hopefully you're not squicked by strangling and you like it. (If you are, I'm really sorry!!) Sorry it's not one of your plot bunnies instead.


End file.
